


Traditional Values

by derangedfangirl



Category: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derangedfangirl/pseuds/derangedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know when exactly it happened, but Saturday night drunken bitch-fests at Harmony's had become some, like, dysfunctional tradition with us.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditional Values

I don't know when exactly it happened, but Saturday night drunken bitch-fests at Harmony's had become some, like, dysfunctional tradition with us. 

  
It started with just Harmony and Perry because of that bizarre psychic connection between gay men and straight women.  Then I had a couple of bad dates with a girl who vomited on my dick and turned out to be too young to fucking drink, so I figured, hey, I think I deserve to get wasted and bitch to my best friends about my love life. 

  
And no, this isn't Sex and the City.  Fuck you.  And if it was, for the record, Perry would totally be Samantha, because he's a fucking slut.  But anyway.  I didn't even let them know I was gonna go; it was kinda spur of the moment, wash the bile off my junk, acquire the inexorable urge to get so drunk I can’t feel my own face anymore, that kinda thing. 

  
So I run to the liquor store, buy a couple bottles of tequila and a shitty ten dollar handle of vodka, figuring Harmony wouldn't give a shit, and, by the time I got there, Perry would probably be too drunk to give a shit, we’d get wasted, and it'd be awesome. 

  
The part I forgot when formulating my plan?  Harmony + Perry + Alcohol ≠ whining about the hottie who didn't call.  They are way too fucking hardcore for that.  Harmony + Perry + Alcohol = a Harry who is now an expert on the finer points of the cut v. uncut debate (Perry is staunchly pro-uncut, for the record, something about some German guy or something).

Also, I'm pretty sure they compare blow job techniques.

Now, usually Perry would only say that type of thing in front of me if he's trying to get me off his dick (figuratively, I mean) about something, or sometimes just to amuse himself with my flailing.  See: alley.

But when Perry gets drunk, and I mean actually drunk, he tends to dirty-talk everything with a cock.  And one time this hot butch lesbian firefighter.  He’s a slut, remember?

Now, here’s the thing about me.  It’s not so much that sober me is smarter.  It’s that drunk me tends to make out with anything with a mouth.  A human mouth.  Uh, an adult human mouth.  Fuck it, you know what I mean.  See: Harmony’s Scary Friend.

Do you see where this is going yet?

So I got to Harmony's place, punched the doorbell a couple of times, and she answered with a bottle of  Schnapps in one hand and a cup of unidentified jungle juice in the other, and I figure this is gonna be a good fucking time.  She grabbed me and hugged me, which totally sloshed sticky fruity shit all down my back, but fuck it, worse would probably be happening later, so I just held up my bottles of booze like I was goddamn Santa Claus.

  
"Perry?" I called as Harmony led me into the living room, "What kind of soap washes out shame, bad decisions, and whiskey?"

 

Perry blinked.  “Irish Spring?”

 

Well, okay then.  I held up my loot.  Perry wrinkled his nose, “Everclear?  What the fuck, Harry?”

  
I shrugged.

“It was on sale.”

“There was a reason for that.”

I shrugged again and took a swig straight from the bottle.  I tried not to let on that it tasted like nail varnish.  Harmony snorted and half-fell on top of Perry, settling herself onto his lap like she owned it.  He grinned and took another drink.  They would make a hot couple.  If Perry wasn’t as gay as the day is long, I mean.  His tie was all loose and his hair was rumpled, and I was _not_ drunk enough yet to be having those kind of thoughts, so I just burrowed into the couch next to them and took Harmony’s jungle juice before she could accidentally spill it all over Perry’s shirt. 

  
“So, Harry, anything to share with the class?” Perry asked, taking a long pull of something that looked like it might be a gin and tonic.  Classy motherfucker, Perry Van Shrike.

“She threw up all over my cock.  Also, she was 19.  The end.”  I downed the rest of the drink in one.

 

Perry gave me a sympathetic look that was disturbingly similar to ‘I’ve been on both ends of that situation,’ while Harmony screamed with laughter.  “Best part?  She still lives with her parents.  I feel like a pedophile.  Help.”

  
Perry grinned and transferred Harmony from his lap to mine with admirable ease, stood, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  
“So what’s your horror story tonight, honey?” 

Harmony tucked her face into my neck and giggled.  “Well, first he tries to convince me not to make him use a condom, because he had a ‘traumatic incident with them in the past’.  I know, right?  And when I finally let him fuck me so he’d stop his bitching, what thanks do I get?  He tries to slip it in my ass.” 

I was not yet drunk enough to avoid my (justified) White Knight reaction, I mean, that’s basically attempted rape, but Harmony waved me off with a little tsk-ing noise.  “Don’t worry, Amazing Harold.  I got him back.”

“Did you shove a dildo up his ass?”

“Fuck no.  Why would I ruin a perfectly good dildo that way?  Gross.”

“Then…?”

 

Harmony grinned evilly.  “I cried afterwards just to fuck with his head.  He left in a hurry.”

 

“Also,” Perry broke in, returning from the kitchen with a glass of god knows what, which he pressed into my hand, “The IRS will be auditing him in the near future.  Harmony has an underdeveloped sense of vengeance.  Drink up.”

I stared at the glass warily, as though I could force it to reveal its secrets.  “What is this?”

“Help.” he purred, lips curling up, moist and inviting.

 

And that was when I knew Perry was drunk. 

 

Harmony laughed so hard I thought she might bust an ovary, I choked on my drink, and everything was right with the world.  Perry dropped back down to the couch, Harmony kicked her legs up to rest on his lap, apparently claiming both of us as her cushions.   “How ‘bout you, Perry?” I asked, sniffing the drink.  It smelled like sour gummy worms.  I like gummy worms.  I took a long swig- it tasted like lollipops.  I like lollipops.  I couldn’t taste the alcohol at all, which meant that it would probably knock me on my ass.  I kept drinking it.  Perry emitted a long, drawn out, very gay sounding sigh. 

  
“I should’ve known it wouldn’t end well when he told me he grew up Mormon.” 

  
I closed my eyes, trying to picture it.  “What, those clean cut kids on bikes?”

  
“Exactly.”

  
Harmony sat up and looked at him with interest.  “And he was… gay?”

Perry was inebriated enough to not even shoot her a sarcastic remark, so I did it for him.

“Nah, Harm.  He was totally straight.  Perry’s cock’s magnetic, remember?”

  
Perry gave me a weird look like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or smack me.  He settled for answering Harmony properly instead.  “Yeah.  Just came out.  He was so gorgeously middle-America that he might’ve bled apple pie. That was the…” he paused, waving his hand, “Strike two.  But, I mean, this guy was so fucking- have you ever met a man so wholesome looking that you just wanted to suck all the virtuousness out of him through his cock?”  Harmony nodded rapidly.  “Oh totally.”

I just took another long swig of my lollypop drink, eyes darting between them like I was at a tennis match. 

  
Perry just nodded and took a fortifying sip of my tequila.  “Naturally, I was excited when he said he couldn’t wear condoms because they don’t fit.” 

 

I blinked, suddenly under a barrage of mental images of Perry being a _bottom,_ which was like, what the fuck, Perry Van Shrike as a _bottom?_ I kinda assumed he was a power top or some shit, and also mildly turned on by the idea of someone as dominant as Perry writhing underneath-

 

Okay, that train of thought needed to crash already. 

 

“-At least, I _was_ excited until he said ‘They just fall right off!’”

  
I laughed so hard at the put-upon look on Perry’s face that I thought I might piss myself.  “Fuck, man, you’re like the… the Bermuda Triangle of morals or some shit.  Fuck.”

  
Harmony snickered, head lolling over to give me a sloppy kiss on the cheek, significantly drunker than Perry, if not by much.  “You should try Harry out.  He doesn’t have that problem.”

 

I was distracted by trying to steal the tequila out of Perry’s hand while he waved it just out of my reach like I was a drunk cat and he was a cat… owner… I guess, whatever, so Harmony’s little suggestion didn’t register as quickly as it should’ve, which led to me half-way on Perry’s lap and Perry looking down at me with one eyebrow quirked and a speculative expression on his face.

 

“Nah.  Short guy like Harry?  I call bullshit.”

 

Which is totally unfair, because I am _not_ that short.  It’s just that Perry looks like a linebacker with a fucking great stylist and an IQ above 70, which is not my fault.

  
“No seriously!” Harmony tends to shout when she’s drunk, “He’s like a fucking tripod, aren’tcha Harry?”

  
What guy is going to deny that?  Seriously.  No guy.  Ever.  So I just gulped at my cheap vodka until my eyeballs prickled and I couldn’t feel my hands, and gave a one shouldered shrug.

  
So anyway, next thing I know, Perry’s tongue was down my throat, and he’s a great kisser, by the way, and somebody’s hand was in my pants, and I’m pretty sure Harmony’s mouth was on Perry’s cock, and it was gonna be really fucking awkward on Monday morning when I couldn’t look at my boss without seeing his cum-face. 

  
No, you’re not getting a blow by blow.  Fuck off.  As if I could remember all of it anyway.  It’s mostly flashes.  The best I can put together is that screaming orgasms were had by all, someone accidentally sat on the remote, and we ended up in a pile of drunk and couch cushions on the floor in front of the TV, watching Teletubbies, flopped out and tangled together like a litter of retarded kittens. 

  
I woke up with my face in Harmony’s armpit and a skull that was trying to implode.  Or maybe burst into flames.  Perry shuffled in with a large cup of coffee, a blanket trailing behind him like a cape, hair jutting out in odd directions and a look on his face that promised swift and painful death to anyone who dared question him.  Or maybe to the sun, I don’t know.  Also, his shirt was gone.  I glanced down.  I seemed to be wearing it.  What the fuck, tequila? 

 

“‘S that coffee?” I rasped, giving him a cripplingly pathetic look. 

 

“Yes.  Fuck off, get your own.” he started to sit down on the couch, remembered it was totally devoid of cushions, grumbled unintelligibly, and slid down next to me and Harmony.  I tugged her closer and leaned my head on his shoulder, blinking up at him with the most heartbreaking puppy-dog eyes I could manage.

 

“Oh my god, Harry.  I hate you.”

 

But he gave me a sip of his coffee and an advil anyway. 

  
“ ‘S that my shirt?”

  
“Mmmmyeah.”

  
"Why?”

  
“Fuck if I know.”

  
“…Okay.”

 

I slid my head down to rest on Perry’s lap, as holding it upright made it spin like a damn... spinny thing.  He didn’t say anything, his fingers just toyed idly with my hair.  Harmony mumbled something about Bon Jovi and curled up in a ball. 

“Harry, if you ever bring tequila again, I will destroy you.” Perry groaned, flopping an arm over his face. 

 

“Made you forget about microdick, didn’t it?”

 

“Actually… Yes.” Perry cocked his head.  I closed my eyes and grinned.

 

“We had a… whatchamacallit.  Productive evening, then.”

 

Perry snorted and nudged a bottle of baby oil on the table with one finger, as though it might bite him.

 

“Guess so.”


End file.
